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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958021">but to him, it feels like freedom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/movequickly/pseuds/movequickly'>movequickly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Pre-Series, ill add more characters as they appear, please just let zeke and eren be brothers, which they will</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:35:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/movequickly/pseuds/movequickly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zeke hates when his brother cries. </p><p> </p><p>Or<br/> </p><p>Zeke watches Carla run a delicate hand over the package and burns to know what’s inside. He wants to rip the elegant paper from the box and unearth the first kind thing they’ve received since they moved out here. Wants to revel in the soft affection they’ve been deprived of for so long, even if it’s just for a moment. Eren bounces up to his side and ducks under Zeke’s arm to peer up at the package laying on their dining table; he too, seems greedy in his interest. Instead of reaching for the box, Zeke stills the hunger burning hot in his chest and leaves to call his father, ruffling his brother’s dark hair as he walks past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eren Yeager &amp; Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger &amp; Zeke Yeager &amp; Porco Galliard &amp; Eren Yeager, Pieck Finger/Zeke Yeager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I think there is a criminally small amount of Zeke and Eren brotherly interaction. I just want them to hug once before the shitstorm that is the manga catches up to the anime.</p><p> </p><p>I play loose and fast with canon, messed around with the timeline/ages a little bit, as well as the process behind titans. Hope I didn't mangle it too much lol.<br/>Also I changed the summary, just didn't vibe with it.</p><p> </p><p>Incredibly vague season 4 spoilers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carla handles the box with trepidation, cautiously excited to receive something other than written vitriol in their mail, but still wary of its origin. She spreads her fingers over the soft fabric, running a delicate thumb over the expensive ribbon wrapping around the box. Zeke had found it sitting on their porch this morning, meticulously placed against their rocking chair and had brought it inside with barely contained curiosity. 
</p><p>Zeke watches Carla run a careful hand over the package and burns to know what’s inside. He wants to rip the elegant paper from the box and unearth the first kind thing they’ve received since they moved out here. Wants to revel in the soft affection they’ve been deprived of for so long, even if it’s just for a moment. Eren bounces up to his side and ducks under Zeke’s arm to peer up at the package laying on their dining table; he too, seems greedy in his interest. Instead of reaching for the box, Zeke stills the hunger burning hot in his chest and leaves to call his father, ruffling his brother’s dark hair as he walks past.
</p><p>Zeke knocks softly on the door of his father’s study to announce his arrival. Though he isn’t sure why he bothers with the courtesy; Grisha leaves his door open for Zeke to enter as he pleases.  
</p><p>His father’s study is spacious and bright, the walls lined end to end with bookshelves. Some of which Zeke himself has read, some whose titles he couldn’t even hope to pronounce. He runs his fingers over their spines before stopping on one he has never seen. Pulling it from the shelf, he walks over to his father. 
</p><p>“Never seen this one before,” he says, flipping through the pages. “<i>Through Time and Space</i>,” Zeke reads as his father jumps in his seat, a hand over his heart. The book is thick and heavy, each page riddled with words Zeke doesn’t recognize. The writing sounds familiar to him, like an old lullaby he’s too old to remember and he turns the book over, expecting to recognize the author. But the book is so worn and threadbare that the name must have been rubbed off years ago. 
</p><p>“Didn’t know you liked to read fiction,” he says at last. Grisha gently takes the book from Zeke’s hands and places it at the corner of his desk, pushing aside papers to make room for it.
</p><p>“Ah,” Grisha says, “that was a gift, from an old friend.”
</p><p>“Anyone I would know?” Zeke asks. 
</p><p>Grisha gives him a strained smile. “Probably not,” he says as he stands up, ushering Zeke from his room. “I knew him back before you were born.” Someone from outside Liberio, then. His father is only ever this deflective about his time before he married Eren’s mother, holds the secrets of his life before Carla—secrets of Zeke’s childhood—close to his chest. Grisha shares everything else freely with Zeke, his triumphs and defeats, his medical breakthroughs and the precious few memories of his beloved sister; Zeke knows his father better than anyone, and yet there is a gaping hole in the stories he tells. That he refuses to share this part of his life with Zeke only serves to make the wild beast of curiosity in him grow fiercer.  
</p><p>Grisha puts one hand on the small of Zeke’s back, the other reaching behind him to close the door. “Why don’t you help Carla with breakfast,” he says, unusually eager to remove Zeke from his study, “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.” The words have barely left Grisha’s mouth, a forced smile still smeared across his face, when the house shakes so violently it knocks them both from their feet. 
</p><p>Zeke feels his head smash against the ground, denting the wood beneath it. Hears the delicate bones of his nose snap on impact. Unable to move the rest of his body, Zeke lays prone on the hard ground. His limbs shake with urgency, but Zeke’s mind is beginning to fog, and each thought slips through his fingers like running water, refusing to stay still long enough for Zeke to get his bearings. His eyes stay fixed on the ruined room before him. 
</p><p>One of his father’s bookshelves has collapsed in the center of the study, a large crack striping its side. Papers and small glass shards lay scattered across the floor. From where Zeke has fallen, he can scarcely make out the elegant scrawl of his father’s handwriting detailing a patient’s records. <i>Through Time and Space</i> remains untouched on his father’s desk. 
</p><p>Blood trickles down Zeke’s face, staining the collar of his shirt. Gradually feeling returns to his body, pain sparking across his skin, and he grasps at the doorway for purchase. He carefully pulls himself upright, his head still hazy and aching. Black spots dance across his vision and Zeke feels nausea overtake him. He barely turns in time to avoid emptying his stomach across his bare feet. Zeke feels his father grip his face, and distantly he wonders where Grisha came from, when he left. His father’s mouth moves frantically but Zeke’s ears refuse to pick up any sound other than the incessant ringing taking over the rest of his senses.  
</p><p>With the bottom of his shirt, Grisha wipes the remaining bile from Zeke’s lips. He points towards the dining room, gesturing wildly as he lowers Zeke to the ground. Without the support of his father’s hands, Zeke’s head falls limp against the floor beneath him. Unable to keep his eyes open, Zeke gives in to the darkness that pulls at his consciousness. 
</p><p>Slowly, sound begins to filter back in. Zeke hears a banging on their door, the distraught voice of his father, and the crackle of fire. 
With herculean effort, Zeke pushes himself to his feet and staggers towards his father, hailed by Grisha’s sobbed pleas and the unnerving silence that follows them. 
</p><p>Eren has never looked so small, not as he does now, cradled between their father’s strong arms. The initial explosion had thrown Carla against the side of the house, snapping her neck where she connected with the wall. Zeke doesn’t think she’s going to get back up, but he’s too afraid to check. 
</p><p>Fire has begun to lick its way towards the ceiling, devouring the kitchen table the package had once sat harmlessly on.
</p><p>Zeke vaguely remembers his mother telling him to stay low to the ground, that smoke tends to rise, but Zeke can’t move. All he can do is watch as his father runs prodding hands over Eren’s still body. Zeke’s eyes stay fixed on the blood coating his little brother’s arm, a large piece of glass breaking open the skin. 
</p><p>Zeke is jolted by the loud bang of a fist on wood. He can hear voices outside, and he moves towards the door, intent on calling for help, but his father stops him with a hand on his leg. 
</p><p>“They won’t help us,” he says, removing his hand from Zeke to curl a finger underneath Eren’s nose. He curses, and with quick, practiced movements he begins to compress Eren’s tiny chest.
</p><p>Grisha starts up a steady staccato. Zeke hears his brother’s ribs break beneath his father’s hands.
</p><p>“They’ll help us,” Zeke tries, desperation sneaking into his voice, “they <i>have<i> to.”
</i></i></p><p>
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</p><p>Grisha doesn’t stop his ministrations. “Listen to them, Zeke,” he says, “who do you think started this?”
</p><p>Now that Zeke tries, he can hear the chants from outside. The calls to remove the <i>demon Eldians</i>, the prayers to eradicate them. Even in the cramped section of Marley they’re allowed to live freely in, already so small and stifling, they can’t seem to find peace. Zeke had thought that this was the worst of it, that being forced to live on the edge of society was the end of their punishment, but to the crowd outside, it’s only the beginning.
</p><p>Zeke’s legs buckle under his weight and he collapses to the ground. He glances over at Eren, still unable to breathe on his own, and begins to cry. 
</p><p>Thundering footsteps echo up their stairway. “Dad,” he whispers, “Dad, what are we supposed to do?” 
</p><p>Grisha guides Zeke’s hands over to Eren’s chest. “We survive. Just like we always have.” 
</p><p>Grisha meets the first man that breaks through their door with a scrap of what was once their ceiling to his head. The man, who Zeke recognizes as the postman that sneers at Eren every time the boy greets him at their front door, goes down with a loud crash. He does not get up, blood seeping slowly from a wound in his head, and Zeke is ashamed to admit that he feels no sympathy for him. Two more men rush up to take their fallen partner’s place, and Grisha greets them both with steel in his back and fury in his blood.  
</p><p>Zeke rips his eyes away from his father and pushes on his brother’s chest. Frantically recalling every detail Grisha had taught him, he flicks his gaze from his shaking hands to Eren’s face, begging his brother to respond. Zeke presses his lips to Eren’s pale blue ones, breathing into him softly. Behind them, Zeke hears his father shout in pain, hears chants of <i>Eldian scum</i> building in fervor. Tears begin to drip off the tip of his nose and on to Eren’s bloodied cheek.  
</p><p>A strangled gasp rips past Eren's lips, and he comes to life, his body giving a terrible shudder before collapsing against Zeke’s. Still, he breathes on his own, and Zeke has never hugged his brother tighter. Eren, who hardly has enough strength to keep his head up, digs his fingers into Zeke’s shirt with the intensity of a dying man gripping his last salvation. Never before has Zeke wished violence on another person, but right now he thinks he would rip a man apart if they dared to look in his brother’s direction with anything resembling a cruelty Zeke knows Eren does not deserve. 
</p><p>Grisha roars in agony, and Zeke turns with Eren still in his arms to see his father tear a knife from his thigh and slash it across the neck of Eren’s old schoolteacher. Too late, Zeke reaches up to cover his brother’s eyes. Grisha gives a violent kick to another woman’s chest, sending her crashing down the stairs. 
</p><p>“Leave!” Grisha shouts, “take Eren and get out of here!” A crowd begins to converge on Grisha, reaching hands grasping at their father’s skin. 
</p><p>Zeke hesitates. “Now!” Grisha yells, his eyes fierce and unyielding.
</p><p>Zeke guides Eren on to his back, coaxes his weak arms to wrap around his neck and rushes to the window, mindful of his brother’s bruised chest. He wastes no time breaking the glass, heedless of the new cuts that decorate his skin as flames begin to lick at his feet. Without a second thought towards the fifteen-foot drop, he jumps out the window. He only has a moment to spare a glance over his shoulder.
</p><p>The last time Zeke sees their father, he’s being torn apart by their neighbors. 

</p><p>---

</p><p>Zeke’s legs finally give out in a cave eight miles from their house. He had ran from their home, tears obscuring his vision, bare feet aching with every step, towards the untouched forest bordering Liberio. Not even hunters walk through these trees; children whisper that the forest is filled with snarling beasts, and their parents only cover their eyes and drag them away, but never do they dispute their claims. Zeke figures he’ll take his chances with the beasts of the forest over the beasts of Marley. At least here, Zeke won’t recognize the creatures that rip him to shreds.
 
</p><p>He sits Eren against the wall of the cave and rips off a piece of his shirt sleeve, wrapping it tight around the wound in Eren’s arm with just enough pressure to staunch the steady flow of blood. Zeke taps on his brother’s cheek. He knows he should probably let Eren rest, give him time to heal his wounds, but fear has begun to snake its way up Zeke’s spine and he’s afraid that if Eren doesn’t wake up now, he never will. 

</p><p>Eren groans, high and quiet, but still he opens his eyes, silver irises dim in the few rays of sunlight that seep into the cave. Eren’s voice is weak, but to Zeke, it has never sounded so sweet. “What ‘appened?” he asks. 

</p><p>Zeke opens his mouth to answer him, and promptly bursts into tears. He wraps his arms gently around his brother and cries into his hair. 

</p><p>“Zeke?” Eren asks, and <i>oh</i> does he sound scared, his hands shaking as they grip Zeke back. “What happened?” Zeke can only cry harder. “Where’s mom and dad?”

</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Zeke says instead, “I’m so sorry, Eren.” Eren stills for a second, the reality of their situation hitting him with a strength no child should have to bear and howls out a sob, clinging to Zeke like his life depends on it. Zeke doesn’t offer Eren any comfort, knows it will ring hollow and untrue, discernable even to the naïve ears of a six year old; instead, all he can do is bow his head and join his brother in mirrored sorrow, their cries echoing throughout the cave.

</p><p>Eren’s wails slowly start to taper out, and Zeke takes a deep breath, pulling back to meet his terrified gaze head on. 

</p><p>“It’s just us now.” He touches his forehead to Eren’s, wiping away his brother’s tears. “And I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
</p><p>“That’s not entirely true,” a voice carries from the lips of the cave, “you’re not <i>completely<i> alone.” 
</i></i></p><p>
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</p><p>Zeke whips around, his body moving to shield Eren’s behind him. He <i>knew</i> he should have taken Eren further from Liberio, walked until his legs broke instead of just ached. Two shadows step towards them, and Zeke tenses, preparing to fight until his last breath, hopes that his death will provide Eren with enough time to flee. 
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>
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</p><p>The shadows come closer and Zeke almost passes out with relief. Porco and Pieck walk towards them, Pieck slowed down by a slight limp in her right leg. Blood is splattered liberally across their clothes, marring their usually neat appearances. Porco sports a deep, jagged cut across his cheek, stretching from the curve of his lips to the beginning of his ear, narrowly missing his eye. Next to him, Pieck looks relatively unscathed, only light scrapes wrap around her long fingers. Zeke prays that that’s the extent of their injuries, for as much as he takes—took— after Grisha, he has nowhere near his father’s level of medical expertise. 
</p><p>Pieck reaches a gentle hand towards Eren. “Oh, you poor thing,” she says as she brushes away a stray tear. Eren shies away from her hand and curls closer to Zeke, seeking protection that Zeke is glad his brother still trusts him to provide. Pieck pulls back immediately, a smile softening her already delicate features. “Ah,” she says, “you must not recognize me.” 
</p><p>Zeke hugs Eren closer to his chest, careful of his brother’s bruised ribs, and for the first time today, he allows a grin to grace his lips. “We used to live near them, before we enrolled in the Warrior Project,” he tells Eren, “Pieck used to help me babysit you.”
</p><p>Zeke winks at Porco. “And you used to <i>love</i> Porco,” he says, “you’d follow him around everywhere, thought he was just the <i>coolest</i>. Almost made your big brother jealous.” 
</p><p>
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</p><p>Porco waves a casual hand in Eren’s direction. “Hey, kiddo.” Eren blushes to the tips of his of his ears and buries even closer into Zeke’s chest.
</p><p>Face pressed up against Zeke, his words are barely audible. “Not a kid,” he murmurs. Zeke snorts in unison with Porco, but Pieck is just kind enough to hold back her laughter. 
</p><p>Porco pulls gently on Eren’s cheek. “Just an adult with a baby face then, huh?” he asks. Eren scowls and weakly bats away Porco’s hand, but a blush continues to stain his dark skin a deep red. 
</p><p>With a grin still on his face, Zeke turns to Porco. “Where’s Marcel?” he asks, “I almost never see the two of you apart.” Porco freezes, and to Zeke’s horror, his eyes begin to water. Porco—this steadfast, <i>strong</i> boy who has never so much as let a lip tremble in Zeke’s presence—begins to cry.
</p><p>
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</p><p>“He, uh, he didn’t make it,” Porco says, turning his head to cover his face, trying in vain to prevent Zeke from seeing him crumble. And Zeke feels his heart stop in his chest. The two brothers had been thick as thieves, practically attached at the hip, and Zeke thinks that Porco loathes to admit that Marcel went somewhere where he couldn’t follow. Zeke imagines what it would be like if he was the only one to escape his house, and he almost starts bawling where he sits. Eren is all he has left, and he thanks a god he doesn’t believe in that he’s still able to hold his younger brother. 
</p><p>Zeke reaches a hand out to tug Porco into a hug, place a steadying warmth on his shoulder, anything to stop the tremors that have begun to wrack his body, but Eren beats him to it. 
</p><p>His brother gingerly untangles himself from Zeke’s hold and wraps his arms around Porco’s waist. “I’m sorry,” Eren whispers, “he must have meant a lot to you.” Zeke realizes that Marcel and Eren never got a chance to meet, and the thought stings like a dagger to the chest. Marcel, the kindest of the Warriors by far, forced to meet the cruelest of ends, would have been able to stop Porco’s tears in a heartbeat, would have happily replaced Eren’s clumsy hands with his own. 
</p><p>“It’s alright,” Porco says, but his voice comes out stilted and weak and he holds on to Eren with needy fingers, “it’s what we trained for.” 
</p><p>Zeke feels a dormant rage begin to take shape in his chest. They trained to be soldiers, learned to swallow the deaths of their comrades and continue with twice the tenacity. But those deaths were supposed to be the result of a desperate war, not the hostility of their neighbors. Porco’s strength is so misplaced Zeke wants to cry, but he knows how delicately it is holding up the platform on which his heart rests, and Zeke fears that a single prod at it will cause the entire structure to collapse and take Porco’s well-earned sanity with it. 
</p><p>Zeke promises that Marcel’s death—<i>his parents’ death</i>—will not be the product of a fruitless endeavor. He will continue where they had been so ruthlessly stopped. He’ll free his people from the deception that keeps them on the cusp of society, shamed and hated in their own homes over something they had no part in, even if it leaves him bloodied and torn. <i>Father I swear to you, I won’t let your dream die with you. I will not let Marley take your heart. If you have nothing else in death, you will have this</i>. 
</p><p>But first, Zeke thinks, he must help the people he has now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I changed some things about the Marley and Eldian history, nothing too major, just a few details.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zeke presses lightly on his brother’s chest, only stopping when Eren sucks in a sharp breath, an apology already on his tongue. He lessens the pressure but doesn’t remove his hands, instead continuing to probe gently at the swelled skin. “Does that hurt?” he asks.
	</p><p>Eren shakes his head, his eyes closed tight. “No,” he says, his ears turning bright red. 
	</p><p>Zeke taps on Eren’s forehead. “I need you to tell me the truth, okay?” he says, his fingers soft as they feel against Eren’s abdomen. Bruised ribs, broken at worst, but without access to his father’s clinic the best he can do is guess. 
	</p><p>“It hurts,” Eren says, shoulders hunched. “It hurts a lot.” Zeke lifts up his brother’s shirt, cursing when he sees the left side of his chest already colored an ugly blue. 
	</p><p>Porco whistles at the sight and crouches down next to them. “That doesn’t look too good, kiddo.” 
	</p><p>Eren tries to straighten up but Zeke stills him with a hand against his collarbone. “It’s not so bad,” he says. Porco and Zeke both ignore the way Eren’s knuckles are white around the fabric of his pants. 
	</p><p>Porco ruffles Eren’s hair, and Zeke spots his brother attempting to hide a pleased smile. “You’re pretty tough. I broke a toe once when I was your age, cried for <i>hours</i>,” Porco says, and Eren laughs, soft and high, the first time all day. 
	</p><p>“No way!” Eren shouts, his voice echoing in the silent cave. Zeke fights down the urge to quiet him; no one save for Pieck is there to hear them. Still, the desire to hush his brother, to obscure their presence for just a little while longer lingers in the air like toxins. 
	</p><p>Zeke unbuttons his jacket and pulls off his undershirt. “It’s true,” he says. “It was quite embarrassing for all of us. I had never heard someone cry so loud or so long before. It was almost impressive.” From the corner of the cave Pieck’s light laughter rings clear. 
	</p><p>Porco’s cheeks burn with Zeke’s admission, but Eren stifles a giggle in his palm and he bites his tongue. The glare he sends Zeke over Eren’s head promises retribution and Zeke thinks he’ll have to check his food for crickets for the next few days, but it’s worth it, he thinks, for the small smile that persists on his brother’s face. 
	</p><p>“Can I see your knife?” he asks Porco.
	</p><p>Porco grumbles something about refusing, seems mildly irritated by Zeke’s earlier comments, but nonetheless hands his knife over handle first. The blade is long and jagged, easily spanning the entire length of Zeke’s forearm. The leather grip feels worn, on the verge of falling apart completely, but Zeke can tell that it’s been well cared for. Polished steel shines in the low light of the cave, reflecting Zeke’s haggard reflection back at him. Zeke vaguely remembers seeing a twin blade in Marcel’s hand, its swift and deadly movements mirrored by Porco’s own. 
	</p><p>Porco watches with anxious eyes as Zeke cuts his undershirt into uneven, lengthy strips. More rudimentary than he’d like, but they’ll have to do.
	</p><p>“Thanks for your sacrifice, Galliard,” he says, only half-teasing as he hands the knife back. Immediately, Porco re-sheathes it and weaves it through his belt loop. Zeke lowers his voice and unfurls the cloth strips. “Raise your arms for me, please,” he says. Eren does as asked with nothing more than a small twinge of pain at the movement.
	</p><p>“I’m wrapping your ribs,” Zeke explains, bandaging the cloths lengthwise across his brother’s chest. “Making sure nothing moves out of place more than it already has.” He ties the cloths tight underneath Eren’s arm, apologizes when he winces, but doesn’t loosen them. Zeke would prefer to leave Eren’s ribs unwrapped, let them heal on their own with only rest and ice and a couple weeks with Eren confined to his bed, but Zeke knows they don’t have that luxury. 
	</p><p>“If it starts to loosen, let me know,” he tells Eren who looks at him with rapt attention. “And if it gets hard to breathe tell me, okay?” Eren nods and reaches out a hand to prod at the bandages. 
	</p><p>Zeke catches his hand. “Please don’t mess with them either.”
	</p><p>Pieck joins them then, finally finished with the makeshift bedding she created with the nearby foliage. “Alright,” she says. “That’s as good as it’ll get.” Zeke considers the corner of the cave where Pieck set up their camp, about a dozen feet from the cave’s opening and the elements it threatens to invite inside while they sleep. The leaves she used are dry and brown, likely coarse to the touch, but Zeke knows those are the best she could find in the dying autumn weather. 
	</p><p>Pieck sits cross-legged next to him and brushes the dust off her skirt, the torn ends barely brushing her ankles. She glances at Zeke’s bare chest, and Zeke fights the urge to throw his arms up in a pitiful attempt to cover himself. Instead, he hastily buttons up his jacket with bumbling fingers, sure he misaligned a few but too embarrassed to try again. Though Pieck is too kind to outright mock him, raised far too primly to ever dream of doing so, she also doesn’t bother to quell her bubbling laughter. 
	</p><p>“The shirt, was uh, for Eren,” he stutters, mimics wrapping a wound. “For his ribs,” he finishes weakly.
	</p><p>Pieck hums and ruffles Eren’s hair. “What a nice brother you are,” she says, her slight smile growing to a full grin and <i>oh</i> does Zeke wish he had his brother’s dark skin, barely resists the urge to cover his burning face.
	</p><p>“Though I guess that means <i>I’ll</i> have to play doctor for <i>you</i>.” Before Zeke can ask what she means, Pieck snaps his crooked nose back into alignment. He howls in pain and curls into himself, his entire mind whiting out for a few agonizing moments. Zeke feels small, frantic hands on his cheeks and he closes his eyes in an attempt to drown out the sharp sting that’s begun to spread out from his nose.
	</p><p>Zeke can hear Porco trying to calm Eren in the background, but if anything it seems to be scaring him more. “What did you do?!” Eren all but shrieks at Pieck, light hands brushing over Zeke’s face in a way that sets his nerves on fire. Quickly, Eren removes his hands but Zeke catches them before he can get too far.
	</p><p>“Pieck just set my nose,” he says, still unable to open his eyes. “She had to do it soon or it would have healed crooked.” 
	</p><p>“You’re bleeding,” Eren whispers. 
	</p><p>Blindly, Zeke gathers his brother in his arms, feeling him shake minutely against his chest. Too late, Zeke realizes that the last time Eren saw blood it was probably oozing from his mother’s head. 
	</p><p>“It’s okay,” he says. “Barely even hurts,” he lies. 
	</p><p>“Sorry about that, Zeke.” He opens his eyes to Pieck’s apologetic face a few inches away from his own, a small, torn cloth extended like a peace offering towards him. She reaches out to dab the blood away, and Zeke is surprised that Eren lets her with nothing more than a wary glance at the cloth. Though the pressure on his nose is still unwelcome, the pain is slowly receding and Zeke reaches up to replace her hand with his own, their fingers brushing for a brief moment. 
	</p><p>“Thanks,” Zeke says as Porco nudges Eren out of his lap so Pieck can wipe the rest of his blood away with a second rag.
	</p><p>“Don’t mention it,” she says, then winces. “Though maybe I should have warned you first.”
	</p><p>“It’s okay,” Zeke says, and his smile hardly hurts. “Probably would have been worse if you did.”
	</p><p>“As much as I love watching you guys flirt,” Porco says, monotonic. “Kinda think we should figure out our next move first.” 
	</p><p>Porco and Pieck look at Zeke in tandem, their eyes expectant and trusting, waiting for him to calm their nerves. Zeke knew he was being groomed to become the next War Chief, to lead the strongest weapons Marley had into battle, make decisive decisions under immense pressure. And he had done it with ease, completed his training with skills that had grown exponentially, was almost surprised at how quickly he became accustomed to giving orders; he had been the paradigm of a strategic leader since the day he enlisted. But with his closest friends and brother’s lives hanging heavy in his hands, he suddenly wishes he could thrust this crippling responsibility to someone else, someone more capable than him, more callous than him, because he knows with a certainty strong in his chest that he can’t be the leader they need him to be. These aren’t faceless soldiers willing to risk their lives for Marley, these are they only people Zeke has left in the world, and he doesn’t trust himself not to disappoint them. 
	</p><p>But Zeke is nothing if not resourceful, and goddamn it he’s going to try. 
	</p><p>“We head back to Marley,” he says, voice loud with a confidence he doesn’t completely believe in. “Take refuge at Fort Arnsberg.”
	</p><p>Porco snorts. “Why would they help <i>us</i>?”
	</p><p>“They put too much time and energy into training us to let us go so easily,” Zeke says. “Besides, an attack against a Warrior Candidate is an attack against the Marleyan government. Even if they don’t give us reparations, they’d at the very least make a few arrests, deter other Marleyans from going against them again.”
	</p><p>“What I don’t understand is why no one has come looking for us yet,” Pieck says. From the corner of his eye Zeke watches Eren wander to the far side of the cave, his hands already busy overturning rocks nearly half his size. 
	</p><p>“Wouldn’t surprise me if the Marleyans were too scared to come out here,” Porco sneers. “Always knew they preferred throwing Eldians at their threats instead of facing them themselves.”
	</p><p>Zeke shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s it,” he says. “Most Marley citizens are quite superstitious, but I’ve seen plenty of officers venture into these forests. If anything, they’re the ones perpetuating the rumors so they can have an undisturbed place to test some of their more…unsavory experiments.” But what Pieck said burrows unpleasantly in his mind. She’s right, they’ve been camped out in this cave for hours, news of the attacks must have reached Headquarters, so <i>why has no one found them yet</i>? 
	</p><p>Movement grabs Zeke’s attention, and he turns to Eren who’s unearthed a small, spotted salamander. He holds it at eye level, utterly entranced; the salamander too, seems curious, tilting its head in Eren’s direction without the unease an animal of its size should have. Carefully, Eren lowers the creature back to the ground. Instead of retreating under a rock, it bolts up his leg and scrabbles across his stomach to hide in his shirt pocket before peaking a tiny head out. Eren laughs and runs a light finger over the salamander’s head, tracing its skin with something like reverence. 
	</p><p>Even from a couple feet away Zeke can tell that the creature’s milky eyes can’t see a thing, but Eren still moves slowly as to not frighten it. The creature should have some kind of innate defense to make up for its sight, nature’s way of evening the odds. There must be something that has allowed this small creature to reach adulthood in spite of its impairment. Nothing else could account for the gutsy way the salamander rests in Eren’s pocket, almost like it knows it has nothing to fear from Eren. 
	</p><p>Or maybe its decided that it’s not strong enough on its own, and serendipity has granted it a savior in the form of a six-year old boy. Either way, the creature’s primitive mind must have decided that although staying with Eren brings its own dangers, it’s far safer to put its faith in the unknown than wrestle with demons it’s already intimately afraid of. 
	</p><p>“Oh,” Zeke says, a weight sinking low in his gut. “That makes sense.” He laughs into a trembling hand. “That makes perfect sense.”
	</p><p>“What does?” Porco asks. 
	</p><p>“It was Marley,” he says. “Our commanders. Hell, probably even the very people who trained us.”
	</p><p>“What do you mean?” Porco asks, but by the way his voice shakes, Zeke thinks he already knows.
	</p><p>“They’re the ones who attacked us. Or sent people to attack us. At this point I don’t really think it matters which way it is,” Zeke says. 
	</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Porco says, Pieck deathly silent beside him. “Why? You said it earlier, why would they waste so much energy training us, their best weapons, the best <i>defense</i> Marley has—”
	</p><p>“Maybe that’s it,” Pieck interrupts. “Maybe we’ve worn out our usefulness. Think about it: the last few battles the titans fought in—”
	</p><p>“We <i>won</i> those didn’t we?”
	</p><p>“Barely,” Pieck says. “The Warriors defeated their enemies by the skin of their teeth, and maybe that’s not enough anymore. I’ve heard talks of them developing new technologies, seen schematics for small, compact airships that can fly higher than our Colossal Titan is tall. I’ve seen them test bombs that explode with more force than the Armored Titan could ever <i>dream</i> to withstand.”
</p><p>“We’ve become obsolete,” Zeke says. “And Marley decided to cut their losses. Cut <i>us</i>.”
</p><p>“Why would they do that?” Eren asks. Zeke whips around to meet his brother’s terrified gaze, curses himself for thinking that Eren would be too young to understand what they were talking about. “I thought you said Marley was going to help you, help our entire family,” Eren says, tears pooling in his eyes. “Why would they kill our parents? <i>What did we ever do to them!?</i>”
</p><p>“I—” Zeke starts, unsure how to explain this to a child. Finds he’s unable to rationalize Marley’s actions even to himself. What could he tell his brother? That Marley hates them, loathes their very existence because a thousand years ago their ancestors had the audacity to defend themselves? The Eldians participated in war, the very same thing that Marley glorifies and terrorizes the entire world with, but because they used a power gifted to them at birth, <i>they’re</i> the monsters? 
</p><p>“Nothing,” he says at last, a red-hot wrath in his voice that surprises even himself. “We didn’t do a goddamn thing, Eren.” 
</p><p>“It’s not fair!” Eren shouts. “It’s not fair that Marley gets to hurt us! I want us to go home, I want to see mom again!” Eren’s tiny face scrunches up and his words ring loud in the silent cave. “I hate this <i>I hate Marley! I’ll kill everyone who tries to hurt us again!</i>” Eren’s screams echo throughout the cave, his entire body starting to shake. 
</p><p>The salamander lays calm in his gentle hands. 
</p><p>Though anger courses through Zeke’s veins, threatens to take over his very being, he softens his voice. He pushes the fury to a corner of his mind fortified with the knowledge that his anger is feeding into his younger brother, but he thinks that even that won’t be enough to stall it forever. “I know, kiddo,” Zeke placates. “I know.” 
</p><p>Porco kneels down next to Eren. “It’s going to be alright,” he tells Eren, raising a hand when it looks like Eren is about to protest. “I know it doesn’t feel like it’s possible right now. I know you’re mad. Mad at Marley for what they’ve done, maybe even mad at yourself for not being able to stop them.” Eren attempts to duck his head, red shame crawling up his face, but Porco catches his chin and forces him to meet his eyes. “It’s okay to feel like that. Emotions don’t go away just because you tell them to,” he says, much softer than Zeke has ever heard Porco speak. “I just want you to know that it won’t feel like this forever. This anger you feel deep in your chest won’t define you, and it won’t control you unless you let it.” Porco glances at Zeke, and he thinks that maybe his speech isn’t solely for Eren’s benefit. 
</p><p>“We won’t let Marley get away with this,” Zeke says. Eren sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve, taking care not to displace the small creature he’s kept clutched between his hands this entire time like a lifeline. 
</p><p>“Promise?” Eren asks, childish hope coloring his words.
</p><p>“I promise,” Zeke says, Porco and Pieck nodding their affirmation. Zeke gives Porco a meaningful look over Eren’s head. 
</p><p>“Why don’t we go look for some firewood?” Porco asks, nudging Eren towards the cave’s entrance. Eren hesitates.
</p><p>“It’s okay,” Zeke tells his brother. “I’m not going anywhere.” Satisfied, Eren follows Porco outside. Zeke waits until their backs fade into pinpricks in the distance before slouching against the cave wall, bringing his long legs to up his chest. As much as he loathes to keep Eren in the dark, Zeke thinks he would be better off not hearing anymore about the cruelty of Marley. At least not today. He’s experienced it enough for a lifetime, and while Zeke knows he can’t shelter Eren from it forever, he’d like to protect his brother’s innocence for a little while longer—however much of it he still has left. 
</p><p>Zeke thinks he understands his father more in death than he ever did when he was alive.
</p><p>“He’s a good kid,” Pieck says. 
</p><p>“I’ve never seen him so angry before,” Zeke admits. “Didn’t know he had it in him.”
</p><p>Pieck laughs. “Reminds me of someone I know.”
</p><p>“Even Porco never—”
</p><p>“I was talking about you, Zeke.” He opens his mouth, closes it when no words fit properly. Zeke prefers to keep his cards close to his chest, doesn’t like to emote more than necessary. Anything else is an advantage he can’t afford to give. He wonders how Pieck, this clever girl he grew up with, could have read him so poorly that—
</p><p>“Oh,” he says, realization creeping in. “Our first day of training.”
</p><p>At sixteen, Zeke is tall, practically towers over his friends, but he can clearly remember having to stand on the tips of his toes to peer over the heads of the other candidates just to catch a glimpse of their commander as she inducts them into the Warrior Project. He had been skinny then, too. Had barely enough food for his small family of four, and it didn’t help that Zeke snuck his rare cuts of meat onto his brother’s plate. 
</p><p>In comparison, Hans had looked like he had been training to kill since before he could talk. Moved like he breathed violence and unchecked anger. Maybe that’s why Zeke had swung first; no shame in being beat by a boy twice your size, nothing to lose but a few teeth—and everything to gain. 
</p><p>Pieck had been quieter than she is now. Less likely to stand up for herself, and it was plain enough for even someone like Hans to see. Zeke hated to see her in pain as much then as he does now. Something goes crooked in the world when Pieck curls into herself, when she tries to hide herself away like her presence is a burden.  
</p><p>Zeke hadn’t won that fight, far from it—had been left with lingering bruises and a scar that still bisects his eyebrow—but he had diverted Hans’ attention from Pieck, and that was all that mattered.  Zeke can’t even remember why Hans raised his fist against Pieck in the first place, maybe she turned down his advances, maybe she placed higher than him in their initial rankings, Zeke doesn’t know, and he finds that he doesn’t care, not then, and definitely not now. What Zeke does remember is how <i>angry</i> he’d been. Felt like he’d never known anything other than this all-encompassing rage that blinded his senses, narrowed his vision down to nothing but Pieck and the way Hans had pressed her back against the wall.  
</p><p>“That’s different,” Zeke says. “I was mad because Hans was going to hurt you. I got mad and I used my anger to help you—Eren’s mad because something was taken from him, and I’m afraid his anger will consume him. Turn him from this sweet boy I love to something I barely recognize. And I’m not sure how to stop it, if I even can.”
</p><p>Pieck reaches over and whacks him hard, his head ricocheting off the cave wall.
</p><p>“Pieck, what the <i>hell</i>—”
</p><p>“Eren’s rage wasn’t <i>selfish</i>,” Pieck says, cutting him off when he tries to defend himself. It’s not that he thinks Eren is selfish, he doesn’t believe that boy has a hostile bone in his body, but from what Zeke just saw he thinks that might change, and that’s what he’s afraid of. 
</p><p>“<i>All</i> anger stems from something ugly,” Pieck says. “But it’s how you use it that defines the kind of person you are. Eren wasn’t mad because something was <i>taken</i> from him, you feeble-minded ass, he was mad at what his parents went through, mad at what <i>you’ve</i> had to go through. His was a righteous anger, and it shows that he won’t stand for the injustice we, or anyone else, have to face.”
</p><p>“…he’s six,” Zeke argues.  
</p><p>Pieck rolls her eyes. “Just because he’s young doesn’t mean he can’t tell when someone’s rights are being trampled. He’s a child, not an idiot.”
</p><p>Zeke is ashamed to admit it, but he thinks that Pieck may have understood his brother better than he had. Eren used to cry when Zeke left the house for Fort Arnsberg, a hand fisted in his pant leg as he begged Zeke not to leave, saying that he <i>didn’t have to go</i>. Zeke had foolishly assumed that Eren simply missed having someone to play with, their neighbors refusing to allow their children within a hundred feet of their house, but looking back, the first thing Eren did when Zeke came home wasn’t stuff one of his toys into Zeke’s hands, but run careful eyes over Zeke and plead with him not to go back. Eren had been scared for Zeke, had understood to a limited extent why Zeke left every week, and decided that Zeke’s new scars and the haunted look in eyes weren’t worth the tentative safety their family was granted. And Zeke had written Eren’s worries off as a childish fear of abandonment. 
</p><p>“You’re right,” Zeke says. “Eren knows more about this world that I wish he did.”
</p><p>“I know it’s hard,” Pieck says. “Watching someone you love grow up in this awful, unjust world. You want to shield them from anything that might hurt them. But Eren is an Eldian, and that means the entire world has been against him since the day he was born.” 
</p><p>“I’m not going to stop trying to protect him,” Zeke interrupts. “He’s my baby brother, he’s all that I have left—”
</p><p>“I’m not saying you have to,” Pieck says. “Just, realize that Eren has lived a similar life to yours, seen a lot of the horrors we all have, and that’s shaped him into who he is. He’s not an innocent child who cries because someone stole his favorite toy—”
</p><p>“He’s a smart kid who knows what’s happening to us isn’t right,” Zeke finishes. “And he wants to do something to change that.”
</p><p>Zeke gives a hollow laugh. “What a shitty world we live in,” he says. “Making a young boy fight for his freedom.”
</p><p>Pieck nudges his shoulder and scoots closer to him. “Not alone,” she says, reaching for Zeke’s hand. “Never alone.”
</p><p>And they sit like that, touching from arm to waist, until the sun is well past its way to setting and Porco and Eren return with the dying rays casting their faces into shadows.
</p><p>Eren’s tiny frame is weighed down with sticks and torn off branches, but he looks more than happy to be able to help out. With a slight skip to his step he sets the firewood down by their makeshift beds. Porco, who had used his jacket to carry a collection of small, circular rocks, places them in a neat circle save for a thin, darker stone which he sets to the side. He waves the two of them over, and Zeke and Pieck join them at their corner of the cave. 
</p><p>Porco skillfully adds a few of the larger branches to the middle of the circle, leaving a bit of room underneath them. 
</p><p>“Grabbed something to help get the fire going,” Porco says as he strikes the darker stone against the ground, sparks igniting in its wake. Under Zeke’s watchful eye, Eren tosses a few of the smaller sticks into the fire, a shy smile on his face. Zeke isn’t sure what Porco did, but Eren seems to be in a much better mood than when he left. He’s almost jealous of the easy way Porco is able to lift Eren’s spirits. 
</p><p>“Hey kiddo,” Porco says to Eren. “Keep a close eye on that fire for me, would you?” Eren nods and scoots closer to the fire, only Zeke’s quick hand on the hood of his jacket keeping him from tilting headfirst into the flames.
</p><p>Porco snorts. “Maybe not that close, okay?” From the corner of his eye, Zeke watches Porco untie a small animal from his belt and hand it to Pieck. “Caught this rabbit a few hours ago,” he says, sheepish. “I’d skin it myself, but I’ve never been very good at it and there’s not enough meat on its bones for me to waste any. I was wondering if you could—”
</p><p>Pieck smiles and takes the rabbit from Porco’s outstretched hands. “Of course, Porco.” Porco relaxes and looks like he’s about to slink back to the warm fire Zeke has been coaxing to life, but Pieck pins him in place with steel eyes. “But that means Eren and I get the legs.” Porco huffs but doesn’t argue, instead moves to sit across from Zeke and Eren, weaving a playful hand through Eren’s hair as he passes. 
</p><p>Eren curls up against Zeke’s side and tucks himself beneath Zeke’s arm. From underneath his unruly hair he peers up at Zeke. “How’s your nose?” he asks. 
</p><p>Zeke raises a hand to his face. It feels like days has passes since he broke his nose, but he has to remind himself that it was only this morning. Just yesterday he was seated next to a fire like this one, his family whole and happy right beside him. 
</p><p>Zeke chokes back his tears. “Fine,” he tells Eren. “Doesn’t hurt too much anymore.”
	</p><p>“You look like you’re going to cry,” Eren whispers and <i>damn it</i>, Zeke has to stop underestimating how perceptive his brother can be.
</p><p>“I just missed you,” he says as he pulls Eren tighter to his side. “Felt like you were gone for a while.” Eren hums like he doesn’t quite believe Zeke, but he lays his head against Zeke’s chest anyway. 
</p><p>“I missed you too, Zeke.”
</p><p>Next to them Porco clears his throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he says, gesturing behind them at Pieck who’s standing near the entrance, “but Pieck has been waiting to come in for couple minutes.”
</p><p>“I was waiting,” Pieck says as she lightly flicks Porco on the forehead and joins them on the floor, “for them to finish. They were having a brotherly moment and you ruined it.”
</p><p>“Guess I ruin a lot of these ‘brother’ things, huh?” Porco mumbles, almost like he didn’t mean for the words to come out.
</p><p>Zeke opens his mouth to refute him, but again, Eren beats him to it.
</p><p>“I bet you were a great brother,” he tells Porco with the certainty only a child can have. “You’re nice, and funny, and you made me feel better when I got so mad that it felt like I was going <i>explode</i>.” 
</p><p>At that Porco gives a watery smile. “Thanks, Eren.” But Zeke’s brother isn’t finished. If anything he seems to be picking up steam.
</p><p>“Your hair looks cool and now that Zeke reminded me I <i>do</i> remember you and you were always nice to your parents and you let me ride on your shoulders, even after I hit my head on the ceiling a couple of times.”
</p><p>Porco’s smile looks fragile now. “Ah, thanks kiddo, but I think that’s enough—”
 </p><p>“<i>And</i> you didn’t even yell at me when I ate those berries, even though Zeke always does—” Porco lunges across the floor to cover Eren’s mouth.
</p><p>Zeke feels his lips twitch into an ugly grin. “You let him eat what?”
</p><p>Eren removes Porco’s hand from his mouth. “I only had a few handfuls,” he tells Zeke, as if that’s supposed to appease him and not make him what to slam Porco’s head on a pike. 
</p><p>Porco scoots away from Zeke, dragging Eren with him like a shield. “I’m almost positive he’s fine,” he says. 
</p><p>Zeke laughs, unhinged. “Porco, if you want to survive the night, I’m going to need more than an ‘almost’,” he hisses. Zeke pulls Eren back towards him, pushing up his sleeves in search of a rash. Eren’s dark skin makes it hard to check for discoloration, but luckily for Porco Eren seems to be fine. 
</p><p>“I ate one after he did,” Porco says, his hands raised high by his head. “They tasted sweet, almost like guju berries!”
</p><p>“Probably fine then,” Pieck says, mirroring Eren’s uninterested attitude. “What?” she laughs. “Zeke, if they were actually poisonous do you think Eren would be doing this?” She gestures towards Eren who’s casually pulling the salamander from his pocket and placing it down between his crossed legs.
</p><p>“Yeah, Zeke,” Eren says with an air of imitative authority. “I’m probably just immune.” 
</p><p>Zeke feels his anger leech out and evaporate. Chuckling lightly, he leans back against the wall of the cave. “Sure, buddy.” He ruffles Eren’s hair and his brother leans into the touch. “Just please don’t do it again. Even if Porco says it’s okay.”
</p><p>Porco accepts a skewed hindleg of the skinned rabbit from Pieck and cautiously sits beside Zeke. “You know I’d never actually let anything hurt him, right?” he asks, roasting the meat over the blazing fire. 
</p><p>“Yeah,” Zeke says, and he means it. For as much as Porco likes to posture and pretend that he’s above something as ‘weak’ as caring for other people, Zeke knows Porco’s quite fond of his younger brother. Porco takes a large bite out of his rabbit leg. Probably fond of all three of them, if he’s being honest with himself. 
</p><p>“Do salamanders even eat meat?” Porco asks, watching Eren attempt to feed the small creature a piece of the rabbit. Eren stills his hand and looks towards Zeke, who can only shrug.
</p><p>“Probably,” he says. “If it’s hungry enough.” 
</p><p>“Have you named it, Eren?” Pieck asks, the salamander now eating scraps from Eren’s hand.
</p><p>“Poko,” Eren says with a happy tilt to his head as Porco groans and slides down to the cave floor.
</p><p>Zeke doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. Feels his barking laughter dance past his lips and finds he doesn’t mind letting go, not when he’s surrounded by people he wouldn’t hesitate to call family. 
</p><p>“Weren’t we still deciding on a couple other names?” Porco asks, a hand sliding down his red face. “What happened to Claudius, or Oskar?”
</p><p>Eren scrunches up his nose. “Those were boring. Besides!” Eren shouts. “He reminds me of you!”
</p><p>Eren raises the salamander, his two hands cupped together like a platform on which the salamander—<i>Poko</i>, Zeke thinks, his laughter threatening to start anew at the correction—lays. Poko is painted a burnt orange with small, irregular clumps of black breaking up the solid color. His eyes are far apart and opaque, his legs long and thin with a tail that makes up half his length. Zeke struggles to see the resemblance. 
</p><p>He reaches out a finger to pet Poko, but the small creature snaps at him with a ferocity that betrays its previously calm demeanor. “Oh,” Zeke snorts, ripping his hand away. “I can see it now.” Next to him, Pieck throws back her head and <i>howls</i>, tipping sideways with only the thin layer of leaves cushioning her fall. 
</p><p>Porco huffs and crosses his arms, but even he isn’t immune to Eren’s stilted giggles, the only one who tries to spare Porco’s feelings. “That’s not what I meant,” Eren says, glee tinging each word a happy shade. “I just thought he looked cool.”
</p><p>“Yeah, sure, kiddo,” Porco says, and at this point he isn’t even pretending to be upset. He shoves the rest of Eren’s unfinished rabbit towards him. “Just eat your dinner.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Things are starting to pick up steam.<br/>Thanks for all your lovely comments last chapter!!<br/>I'm going to be trying to update once a week (or more, depending on how excited I get lol).</p><p>I also headcannon that Zeke has a really loud, ugly laugh. </p><p>Constructive criticism is much appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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